Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.....not so much?

I always look forward to the infamous chore of grocery shopping. It's not that I'm a soccer mom and this is one of the few treasures that rescue me from chaos. It's not because I love engaging in grocery cart races with.....well, that cute stranger on aisle 9. And it's definitely not because honeycrisp apples are finally on sale at $1.29/lb (because really....there are far more intriguing things that tickle my fancy than produce, I assure you). It's the tail end of the whole grocery shopping experience that usually results in a smile upon my face.....that pivotal moment when the cashier has rung everything up, collected my payment, and printed out my receipt...this is the moment when he or she makes a valiant effort at pronouncing my full name. Please note it's not my first name that tends to painfully confuse others, but my last name that typically elicits such a frustrated look upon the clerk's face that he or she might rather go help with the self-checkout line (seriously, I do NOT envy these folks) than risk verbally mutilating the 4 syllables at the bottom of the paper that personally identify yours truly. I think my favorite part of this especially awkward exchange is when the individual attempts this difficult task but then just gives up and hands me my bags, essentially admitting defeat. A special thank you to the parental units for this gem. I sincerely appreciate it. Really.